


Giddy

by Transposable_Element



Series: Engagements [4]
Category: Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
Genre: F/M, Romance, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy is swept off her feet (sort of) by dashing (sort of) Lieutenant Pole on VE Day (sort of).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giddy

**7 May, 1945. Portsmouth.**

Peggy was just getting off her duty shift on the telegraph when she heard shouting and the sound of feet on the stair. Rumors had been flying all day, so she was thrilled, but not surprised, when Petty Officer Clarke, after nearly barreling into her in the hallway, blurted out, “The Jerries have surrendered! It was just on the wireless!” A moment later, there was a whoop from inside the telegraph office; the news had come in on the telegraph as well. Reports were confusing, but it seemed that the announcement was official, though not quite official. The actual holiday, VE Day, was to be tomorrow. But the important thing was that the Germans had surrendered. There was a ceasefire. Why wait for the official holiday to celebrate?

When Peggy got outside there was quite a lot of happy chaos: cheering, dancing, embraces. She hugged a couple of her friends and consented to be danced around by a civilian dockworker. All the time she was looking for Lieutenant Pole, but she didn’t see him. She looked up at the building opposite and saw a light in the window at Operations. She went up to see if he was there. After all, who else would be up in Ops at a time like this?

He was alone in Ops, with a light trained on some maps, examining them. 

“Lieutenant Pole, haven’t you heard? The Germans—”

“Blackett!” he said, as he dropped the photograph he was holding. He loped unevenly over to her, put an arm around her waist, and pulled her in for a kiss.

This was not a complete surprise. On her way over here from the telegraph office she had seen a lot of kissing, and if she was honest with herself, it was in the hope of something like this that she had come up here looking for Lieutenant Pole. It was a very nice kiss, and unlike most of the smacking kisses she’d seen outside, it went on for quite a long time. But all good things must come to an end. She sighed as they broke apart. “I’m certainly—“ she began.

“Will you marry me, Peggy?—Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said.

For a few seconds she just stared at him. When she was able to speak, all that came out was, “Whaaaaat?”

“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but it’s better than a flat out refusal,” he said.

“Are you _joking_?”

“I would never joke about a thing like that,” he said.

“But you’ve never…I’ve never…I mean…that’s the first time you’ve even called me Peggy!” she said. 

He leaned forward and tried to kiss her again, but she evaded him. She didn’t push him away, though, as she was enjoying the embrace. She had her arms around him, but she wasn’t sure when that had happened; while they were kissing, presumably. “What is it, did you decide to propose to the first Wren who stuck her head in the door after the war was over?” she asked.

“Only if it was you,” he said. “Besides, the war’s not over. Not in the Pacific, and probably not on the continent either. There are bound to be a few pockets of resistance to clear up.”

“Don’t go outside and say that. Somebody might throw a bucket of water on you. _I_ might.” 

“Sorry. It’s just that even before today I’ve been planning which ships and planes and men to shift around to the Pacific. And I’ve a brother out there, still.”

“Yes...” She sighed, a bit deflated. “I’ve an old friend who’s with the Pacific Fleet.”

“Is that the Walker fellow you were so worried about a couple of months ago? He’s not my competition, is he?”

“A few months ago? You mean Roger? How do you even know about that?”

He shrugged. “You were talking about him. Who is he?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s an old friend of mine. He and his whole family are old friends. He was shot down in Germany and we were all worried, but he’s all right. He managed to get back behind Allied lines after about a week, not too much the worse for wear. But he’s not my sweetheart or anything, more like a bratty baby brother. Not so very bratty these days…” She realized she was starting to babble. “But the one I was thinking of who’s in the Pacific is John, his older brother,” she said. Lieutenant Pole raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “Who’s sort of engaged to my sister,” she added.

“That’s good.”

“You really mean it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He kissed her again. He made a quite convincing case. 

Eventually they came up for air. She was still not sure just what was going on. Was he serious? “We haven’t known each other very long,” she said.

“Three months,” he said. “In wartime, that’s practically forever.”

“But we haven’t been especially chummy. You don’t really know anything about me!” she said.

“Oh, I know a few things. You’re from the Lake District, and you have a sister a year or two older called Nancy, who’s a Wren. Right now she’s stationed in Dover. She piloted ships back and forth across the channel during the Normandy invasion, and you’re extremely proud of her. Your mother was widowed when you were quite young and hasn’t remarried, and you’ve a very interesting-sounding uncle who’s traveled all over the world. You grew up right on the lakeshore—quite idyllic, it sounds like—and you love to sail and camp and all that sort of wholesome outdoor thing. So do I, though I haven’t had much opportunity to do it. You like to cook, and it sounds as though you’re good at it. And you like children, which is good because I like them, too. Before the war broke out you were planning to be a teacher. You’ve got a lot of friends, old and new, more than I can keep track of. And I may be wrong, but you haven’t a sweetheart that I know of, and I _think_ you like me. You don’t seem in a hurry to let go of me, at least.”

She stared at him, stunned. She was fairly certain she had never discussed any of this with Lieutenant Pole. This was also by far the most she had ever heard him say in one go. For a second she thought that she _ought_ to let go of him, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it… She shook her head in bewilderment. “How do you know all of that?”

“I pay attention. I know quite a lot more than that about your sister—you talk about her all the time. You must be very close. But I get the sense you’ve always felt a bit in her shadow, as well.”

“You ought to be in Intelligence,” she said.

“Oh, but I _am_ ,” he said, smiling mysteriously.

For a second she believed him. Then she realized it had to be a joke. “You can’t be, otherwise you’d never have said you were,” she said.

He chuckled. “Excellent logic. No, I’m not. It’s just that paying attention and knowing what was going on was an important skill to cultivate when I was a child. When you meet—sorry, mustn't make assumptions— _if_ you meet my parents you’ll understand. When I’m interested in something or somebody, I just turn on the old radar.” 

“So you’ve been interested in me.”

“Yes.”

“Well, why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

For the first time he looked a little chagrined. “I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to let myself fall in love until after the war was over,” he said. “But I didn’t quite succeed, so I thought at least I’d keep quiet about it.”

She shook her head. “You’re a very odd man,” she said, before it registered that he had more or less said that he was in love with her. Well, he had just proposed, so that oughtn’t to be surprising, but somehow it was…

“Odd in a bad way or a good way?” he asked.

“Well…a good way, I suppose. Interesting. You haven’t actually been spying on me, have you? Not peeking through keyholes or…or anything like that?”

“God, no. Not even eavesdropping. Just paying attention during ordinary casual conversations. You’re quite talkative, you know.”

“Good,” she said, “because spying on me would definitely be odd in a bad way.” She thought about what he’d said. Nothing he’d mentioned knowing about her was a secret. She did talk about Nancy and Mother and Uncle Jim a lot. She’d always been a chatterbox; it would be easy to learn a lot about her just by being present during a few quite public conversations—if you were interested enough to pay attention.

“What is it?” he asked, after she’d been quiet for a minute.

“I’m just trying to think of what I know about you. You don’t say much about yourself. But I know you have at least two sisters. One of them’s much younger, still at school, and I think the other is older than you and has children. And you just said you have a brother, too. You grew up in London. I think you come from an arty, literary sort of family….Bohemian. You were wounded in the Mediterranean and invalided home, and that’s why you’ve been here for the last few months. How am I doing?”

“I’m impressed. How did you figure out the Bohemian bit?”

“I’m not sure. Partly the way you talk, I suppose. And your little sister goes to some kind of progressive school. You were complaining about it one day.”

“You see?" he said triumphantly. "No spying necessary.”

“That’s true. How funny….” she said.

“So, what do you think?” He was looking a bit anxious.

“Oh, L—, um...” She laughed. “I almost called you Lieutenant Pole, but I suppose I might as well call you…Richard, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Well, um, oh gosh…I _do_ like you. That’s why I came up here just now. But I didn’t expect anything like this. I thought…I might be able to get the ball rolling, and now here we are, full tilt.”

“I’m sorry...You don’t have to answer right away. Take as long as you like. I just want to know if you’ll consider it.” 

“Oh. Yes. I mean—yes, I’m not saying no, I just need to think about it.”

He let out a sigh, and she could see that he was truly relieved. “Oh, thank God! For a few minutes there I thought I’d cocked up the whole thing…I really didn’t mean to spring it on you like that, I just got a bit carried away.”

“And you’re supposed to be some sort of strategic genius…”

“Am I? I thought I was a man chained to a desk while his leg heals. Speaking of which, I probably ought to sit down.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, disengaging herself.

“In case you’re wondering, the doctors say I ought to make a full recovery, or very nearly,” he said as he sat down. “It’s just that I severed my Achilles tendon as well as the muscles in my calf, and it takes a long time to heal. Actually, it _is_ healed, but now everything needs to be stretched out again. If I stand still too long I start to get cramps—walking is better.”

“Well, if I did decide to marry you, I wouldn’t let something like that stop me,” she said. “There are a lot of men coming home in worse shape, and I should hope they’ll have no trouble attracting girls. It ought to be a badge of honor.” She watched while he massaged his calf. She wondered what he would do if she offered to massage it for him. “Do you want me to do that?” she asked, before she had the chance to think better of it.

“Oh…well, if you don’t mind,” he said. 

She knelt down in front of him with his foot in her lap and started gently kneading his calf. “Is this all right?” she asked. “I’m not hurting you?”

“Well, that’s the wrong leg, but it feels very nice,” he said. She snatched her hands away and looked up. He was grinning at her. “Just kidding. You’ve got the right leg.”

“Do you swear?”

“Word of honor.” He put one hand on his heart.

“Is there a simple way to tell when you’re joking?” she asked, gingerly resuming the massage.

“I’ve no idea, you’ll have to ask one of my sisters. They ought to know, if anybody does.”

She snorted. “I’d hate to think what Nancy could tell you about me,” she said. “If she says anything about thunderstorms, you can take it with a grain of salt.”

After a while he thanked her and said, “I think I can manage you on my good knee, if you want to come up here.” He raised his eyebrows inquiringly again.

She looked at him appraisingly. She thought she could handle him if he got fresh—or more fresh than he’d been already—or more fresh than she wanted.

They’d just gotten her settled on his good knee and were trying out a kiss from this new and interesting angle when they were startled by a voice at the door saying, “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to intrude.” By the time Peggy twisted around, whoever it was had gone. 

“Well, there’s the cat out of the bag,” said Richard.

“Did you see who it was?” she asked.

“No, I only have eyes for you. Besides, you’re between me and the door, and you’re quite opaque.”

“Sorry.”

“Not at all. One should never apologize for being opaque.”

“I won’t, then. But maybe we ought to go out and join the party. This isn’t a very private place for a cuddle.”

“It’s too late. I’m sure the rumors are flying already.”

“Even without that, it’s still not a very good place for a cuddle.”

“I suppose not,” he said regretfully. After a little while they went down to join the others. If they were flushed and tousled, well, so were a lot of people. 

Someone had heard there was a bonfire down on the beach (a bonfire! at night! no more damned blackouts!), so they followed a group that was going down to look for it, and then when they got to the beach they lost sight of each other. Peggy was a little disappointed, but she had lots of friends around her, and besides, she needed a chance to think about Richard Pole while he wasn’t there to confuse her.

Her friend Debbie took her by the arm and asked, “What’s this I hear about you cuddling Lieutenant Pole up in Ops?”

“Oh, well, I suppose there’s no point in denying it.”

“Is it serious? Do tell.”

“Probably just VE Day,” said Peggy.

“VE Day’s tomorrow. You’ll have to cuddle him again,” said Debbie, with relish.

 

**8 May, 1945.**

Peggy didn’t go to bed until dawn, but she was able to get in a few hours of sleep since she wasn’t on duty until afternoon. When she woke she wondered how much of what she remembered of the day before was accurate. She hadn’t drunk more than a few sips from someone’s flask at the bonfire, but she felt disorientated, and the whole previous evening seemed dreamlike. 

She thought about Lieutenant Pole, or Richard, or whatever she was calling him now. She had liked him from the start, of course, and had felt a thrill of attraction whenever they were together. He was friendly, but quiet, serious, dedicated, meticulous. He was dark and compact, with beautiful grey eyes. He occasionally displayed a flash, or more than a flash, of ironic humor. Now she wondered whether she’d done more than scratch the surface, because the conversation yesterday had been surprising and unnerving. More to the point, was he odd in a good way, or a bad way? He was remarkably glib for someone who was usually so quiet. She still wasn’t sure how much of what he’d said she should believe. But he had clearly been extremely relieved when she said that she wasn’t saying no, she just needed time to think. At that moment, he had seemed utterly in earnest. Maybe he did mean it.

She got up, washed, and had breakfast, all the while wondering whether she ought to go over to Ops to see if Richard was there. Instead, she decided to check in on her friend Maggie, whom she hadn’t seen at all yesterday evening. As Peggy suspected, Maggie, who had got word only a week ago that her brother had been killed in Italy, didn’t feel much like celebrating. Peggy sat with her for a while, until Maggie assured her that she was all right, even if she wasn’t as giddy as most people were. Then Peggy went over to the telegraph office. Richard was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

“I almost went over to Wrens quarters, but I thought that might be coming on too strong,” he said.

“Besides, you’re not allowed,” she said.

“There is that.”

“I don’t understand,” she said plaintively. “From the moment we met, you were perfectly pleasant, but quite formal, never overly friendly—and now you’re so…enthusiastic.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Oh…not really. I’m just confused. Why me?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“There are lots of girls here. Prettier ones.”

“Oh no there aren’t,” he said. “Not a single one.”

“Now, you see, that’s one of the first things you’ve said to me that was in any way romantic.”

“Oh, is it romance you want?” He dropped to one knee. “Ow! Peggy, I—wait a moment, I thought I ought to kneel on the good leg, but that leaves the bad one flexed.” He switched knees. “That’s better. Peggy, darling—No, this isn’t working either, now I’ve got a cramp…“

She couldn’t help laughing. “Get up! You’re being ridiculous!”

“No, no, I realized last night that I never told you something important.”

“What?”

He took her hand between his and looked at her very earnestly. “I love you,” he said. There it was again, for a moment: all the artifice gone. She believed him.

“I…maybe I love you, too. If you give me time to get used to the idea. But _do_ get up!”

“Well, when you put it that way….but…Blast it! I think you’ll need to give me a hand,” he said. 

“You already have my hand,” she said.

“Then brace yourself,” he said, and levered himself up. “Well, that was a bit of a fiasco,” he added, as he dusted himself off.

“No it wasn’t, it was sweet.”

“You’re a forgiving woman…Are you on duty now?”

“No, I’ve more than an hour, I think,” she said. “I was just going up to gossip until I was on duty.”

“Then will you come sit with me somewhere instead? Or go for a walk? I think I ought to stretch my legs.”

“All right.” 

They walked around the base aimlessly. She was feeling a bit nervous and she knew that she was babbling, talking about various people she knew and what they might do when the war was finally and completely over. Eventually, with a supreme effort, she managed to stop the flow of words. “Am I talking too much?” she asked.

“No. I find it endlessly fascinating, all the people you know.”

“I don’t know that many people!”

“Yes, you do. You know just about everybody here. I’ve been at a few different posts the last couple of years, and I’ve noticed that at every post there are always one or two people who seem to know everybody. They’re not necessarily _friends_ with everybody, but they’re on speaking terms with everybody, or nearly everybody. So, if you see that there’s some sort of quarrel or bad blood at the post, and you don’t understand what it’s about, this is the person you ask to explain it to you. Or, say you need a favor or you need to get around some kind of regulation, you ask this gregarious person, and usually he knows who to go to and how to get them to help you.”

“I’m sure you have a point to make,” she said drily.

“Of course. When I came here, I realized right away that there was somebody named Blackett who must be this kind of person, because people kept saying “Oh, ask Blackett, she’ll know who can get one,” and “Oh, Blackett said that so-and-so was due back from leave tomorrow,” things like that. And when I met you, I could see why. You’re easy to talk to. Even…even for me. You’re very disarming.”

“Disarming? I think I’m terribly fierce.”

“I’m sure you are, when ferocity is called for.”

“Hmm,” she said. 

After she’d been quiet for a few moments, he said, “Good God, have I silenced you?”

“Oh, it’s just…quite interesting. I never thought about myself that way….You and I are very different. More than I’d realized,” she said. She stopped and turned to him. They were nearly the same height, and she found herself looking directly into his face.

“Too different?” he asked.

“No….no, I don’t think so. Maybe just different enough. I think it may take me years to really get to know you.” Somehow they had wandered back to the telegraph office and were standing in the lee of the building. Nobody was about, and it seemed a private enough place for a kiss.

A few minutes later Commander MacKenzie rounded the corner of the building and nearly bumped into them. “Well, I can see that military discipline is already unraveling,” he said. But he sounded more amused than anything.

“We’re both off duty, sir,” said Richard.

“And we’ve just got engaged,” said Peggy.

Richard looked startled for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Oh—yes,” he said. _Aha! Now I’ve surprised you_ , she thought. She squeezed his hand.

Commander MacKenzie sighed. “Carry on, then,” he said. “And congratulations. But don’t be late for your next duty shift. The war’s not over yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> It isn't relevant to this story, but Peggy and Richard's marriage is the link between Swallows and Amazons and Narnia in my crossover fic (Jill Pole is Richard's little sister).
> 
> This started out as backstory for something else ("On This Side of the Door" and "In Mourning").


End file.
